Between The Numbers
by Mislav
Summary: A sequel to my fanfiction "A". Sherlock needs to solve the murder of a young woman who was working on solving a complicated Math problem, while Joan looks into the missing person case, not even expecting to cross paths with an old enemy. Case!fic. No shipping in this story, but Joanlock friendship. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I don't own any of the Elementary characters and I am not making any money from writing this.**

 **Please forgive any minor spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native language.**

 **This is a case fic. Lots of focus on the case and some character dynamic/friendship along the way. No shipping. It is also a sequel to my previous case fic, "A", so if you haven't read that one, this one will probably not make much sense. At least the Joan B story. This story takes place in a separate universe from "In Plain Sight", though it can be considered a prequel.**

 **Chloe Butler is one of Joan Watson's former clients. She appeared in the episode 2x11 "Internal Adult".**

Once again, he was there, surrounded by the fellow addicts. He looked them over, both trying to find some comfort in their presence and having to control his mind, trying not to "read" them. Eventually, he spoke up.

"My name is Sherlock and I'm an addict", he exclaimed, sounding almost embarrassed that time.

"Hi, Sherlock", they all replied in union.

He remained silent for a moment, biting his lower lip and thinking his prepared speech over. "I often wonder about... the efforts that we make", he admitted, looking at others in an almost hopeful way. "Every day. Are those... the testament of our sobriety, in a way? I guess that depends from person to person. No matter how much I hate to admit this, I was hardly at my best work while... not being sober. I assume that is one more reason to pursue it... because of our connection to the society. I guess you can say that we don't owe them anything... we couldn't have chosen whether to be born or not, or when and where... That way, the whole human life, this world, appears pointless. Maybe it is. I guess, that is the excuse that many addicts use. No offense. But still... I've always felt that there is more to this world. Despite all of it's flaws", he concluded, sighing slightly as he did.

#

Soon after, he was in the hallway, putting his coat on-together with Joan. She rarely accompanied him after she stopped being his sober companion, but she would still go sometimes.

"So, how was it?", Joan asked, trying to appear positive.

Sherlock sighed. "Rather depressing." He looked away. "And, sadly, better than the last time."

Joan rolled her eyes and was about to head to the door when she saw a familiar woman approaching her. "Joan?"

That was Chloe Butler, a tall brunette that Joan hadn't seen for almost two years, since she and Sherlock investigated the murder of Donald Houser. A look on Chloe's face was the one of worry and her hair was a bit of a mess.

"Chloe!", Joan cried. "What are you doing here?"

Chloe looked her in the eyes as her cheeks blushed. "I need your help, Joan."

Sherlock's ringtone went off. He pulled out his phone and checked the text. "They need us in Maple street", he read. "An apparent suicide, but there are some... uncertanities."

Joan appeared confused. "Oh, I..."

"It's OK", Sherlock assured her politely. "Stay and talk to your... friend. I can hail a taxi", he said, pulling out his whistle proudly.

#

Within half an hour, Chloe and Joan were sitting at the table in a small diner, opposite to each other, both sipping some coffee. "I now work at a really nice family", Chloe informed Joan, who smiled. "I have recently become a sponsor myself", Chloe explained timidly, looking away as she did.

Joan smiled. "That's great! Congratulations!"

Chloe blushed. "Thanks." She sighed. "Well... that's what all this is about." She pulled out her phone and handed it to Joan. A photograph of young, brown haired, slightly overweight Caucasian man was featured on the screen. "Hal Redding, twenty four. He started dwelling into alcoholism after his father died in a car accident, finally decided to get clean and started going to the meetings, starting as of about a year ago. I have become his sponsor two months ago and he appeared to be doing well. He still hasn't gotten around to trusting me completely, but we are working on that." She cringed. "We were getting better... he's been missing for three days now."

Joan glanced at her, feeling a bit concerned. "Three days?"

Chloe sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "He didn't show up on a meeting, he isn't answering my calls. His apartment is locked, I don't have an extra key. I contacted his mother, his only surviving family. He isn't at her place. She doesn't know anything that could help me." She took a sip of coffee. "Apparently they only hear from each other a few times every months. He mostly only visits on hollidays. No activity on his social media sites either. Or anything suspicious there, it would appear."

Joan frowned. "Why don't you contact the police?"

Chloe shook her head. "You know they usually don't take such things seriously. And I don't want to risk him getting into trouble in case he really isn't in danger and he has just done something stupid." She sighed. "That may as well be. As far as I know, he doesn't have any enemies, no ties to any gangs, no criminal records except for being arrested for being drunk and disorderly a few times. He mentioned a new girlfriend a few times... a hair dresser, blonde, her name is... Natalie, I think. But I have never met her and I don't know anything else about her. I know that you and Sherlock work for the police but also as private detectives so..."

Joan nodded her head, the understanding starting to settle in. She took a sip of coffee. "I understand. I'll help you. We'll have to search his apartment first."

Chloe leaned closer, lowering her voice. "How are we going to get inside?"

Joan smirked. "I have my ways."

#

Thomas was bringing Sherlock up to speed as the two of them were walking into the living room in the victim's house, followed by Marcus. "Mandy O'Reilly, twenty nine", he started. "Worked as a Math professor at city college. Her live in boyfriend arrived home from work, found her hanged. There was no pulse. He tried removing the ligature, but the knot was too tight and she was cold... he called 911. He's really distraught."

"Understandably", Sherlock said.

Thomas frowned. "Where's Watson?"

Sherlock sighed. "You know... old friends, old responsibilities... present absence."

They stopped upon reaching their destination. The body of a young tall blonde woman was hanging from the drape cord tied to the living room luster, close to the wrtiting desk, a chair laying on the floor near by.

"Well, I doubt that I am here to investigate a likely suicide", Sherlock said as he started examining the body, previously peeking into the few drawers.

Thomas sighed. "Well, her boyfriend swears that she wouldn't have committed suicide, and also claims that he saw a strange person moving around their house in a black SUV a few days earlier, though he can't provide a better description."

"Leave no stone unturned, huh?", Sherlock commented before taking a step back. He pointed at Mandy's clothing. "All of her clothing appears to be quite tidy. But the chest area and the sleeves on her T-shirt are all wrinkled." He looked under her waist. "And there are some fresh scuff marks on the soles of her shoes." He looked down at the floor, pacing around the room. "There are also some slight but visible scuff marks on the floor too, leading from the writing desk to the, I daresay, murder sight."

He examined the victim's hands carefully, from both sides and under her fingernails. "There are no scratches on the inner sides of her hands, nor fibers on that area or under her fingernails, that would almost certainly remain there if she used such a cord to hang herself. The marks on her fingernails show that she had been biting them a lot recently. A possible sign of stress", he noticed before looking down at the chair. He examined every inch of it carefully, then gently picked it up and moved it to stand under the body, before putting it back in it's original position.

"The height of the chair seems consistent with the suicide scenario", he informed the others, looking around. "As well as the position. Very carefully estaged. But there is no evidence of anyone having stood at it's delicate, clean coverage and then knocking the chair over. No scuff marks, no scratches, no dents, no dust. It is spotless."

He took one more look at the body, his face suddenly lighting up. "If you look closely, you will notice that her nose and forehead are of a lighter skin tone than the rest of her face. Small discrepency, but an odd one."

He immediately pulled out a clean paper tissue out of his pocket and started rubbing it over Mandy's face carefully. Eventually, her skin tone was back to normal, with a hardly visible but evident stain on the paper material, that he showed to the captain. "A make up", Gregson exclaimed.

Sherlock nodded his head, still looking at the body. "It seems to be consistent with some items in the make up kit that I have found in one of her drawers. But according to these photographs, she would never apply that type of make up, on only that area. And there would be no reason for her to do that." He walked back over to the body, pointing to her face. "And you may notice a small bruise and some scratches on her forehead and nose. They appear fresh."

Marcus frowned. "An abusive relationship, maybe?", he suggested.

Sherlock shook his head. "Well, the injuries don't appear to be severe. I haven't found any older injuries. I doubt it."

He took one more look around the room before walking to one of the closest photographs on the wall, showing Mandy and her boyfriend posing on a hiking site together, then turned to face Thonas and Marcus, pointing at Mandy's sneakers (featured on the photograph).

"Look at this photograph. And many others." Thomas and Marcus walked over, frowning as they did so. "At her sneakers, to be exact. She always ties them in a very particular knot." He turned to look at the windows, his face blushed with excitement. "The same one used to tie all the curtain cords in this house." He quickly turned towards the body again. "It is a shear opposite to the quite common and potentially unstable knot used to tie the noose around her neck and to tie another end to the luster."

Before neither Thomas nor Marcus were able to comment on that, he moved over to the writing desk, looking down at the drinking glass and running his fingers over the circles on the surface of the desk, around it.

"I have smelled traces of Cola on her lips", he explained. "The smell of Cola in this drinking glass on the writing desk near the computer is fading, but still noticeable. I think that it has been sitting here for the last four or five hours. The still wet and sticky rings on the desk show that it had been raised up and put back down on the table a few times recently. She was drinking it at around the time of her death, probably while sitting at this writing desk. She was likely working on the computer shortly before her death too."

"Probably writing a suicide note", Thomas concluded, kind of cynically.

"Or something else", Sherlock mused as he leaned over and studied the surface of the desk closely. He even smelled it. Eventually, he straightened himself up and took a moment to sort his thoughts before speaking.

"Traces of smeared sweat on the surface of the desk near the keyboard", he exclaimed, pointing to the stains on the desk. Thonas and Marcus walked over, trying hard to see what he had spotted. "Wiped away pretty well, but not well enough. Transfered recently, judging by the odor. The position seems to be consistent with... well, a human forehead and there are also spreckles of make up that were applied to her, on the desk as well as on the chair."

"Somebody slammed her head against the desk?", Marcus theorized.

"The injuries don't seem to be consistent with that", Sherlock said determinedly before a curious look sparkled in his eyes. "But if somebody were to knock her unconsciousness or drug her, and her body would fall forward..."

"But you've examined her neck and head and found nothing suspicious", Thomas pointed out.

Sherlock's face fell. "That is true." He then leaned over and quickly examined "My Documents" program before turning to face Thomas and Marcus again. "According to her computer records, she saved a draft of an essay shortly before her death. Shortly before "writing" a suicide note. Why would somebody do such a thing before killing oneself?"

He looked around some more, noticed an MP4 on the table near by, picked up, quickly examined the data.

"Her MP4", he exclaimed and quickly checked the data one more time before looking up at his friends. "The records show that she was listening to the music at around the time of her death. Pretty cheerful one. Even less consistent with the suicide theory." He put the MP4 down on the table, his voice lowering, almost for a dramatic effect. "But if she was listening to the music and working on her computer with her back turned to the back door, that would make it easy for somebody to sneak up to her from behind and knock her unconsciousness. Especially if he, or she, were to sneak in through the back door."

He moved toward the chair again and studied it, as if visualising something. "Taking in the account her height and the height and the position of the chair in front of the desk, her neck would have been completely exposed", he deduced, gesticulating in the process. He bent over and examined the keyboard, running his finger over some of the buttons and then examining the residue on his latex glove. "An expert karate blow to the back of her neck would have certainly done the trick. The subsequent hanging and death due to a broken neck or a lack of oxygen, or combination of the sorts, would have concealed any previously caused injuries to the neck or the brain."

"So, our killer knows karate", Marcus said sarcastically, writing that down. "That is a clue, I guess."

"There are some scratch marks on almost every button on this keyboard", Sherlock explained, raising his hand. "Fresh, judging by the traces of paint dust around them. They seem to be consistent with the tip of the pen, but don't match, in shape or size, to any pens that I have found inside the house." He furrowed his eyebrows. "They are positioned close to the middle and most consistent on the buttons containing the most common letters in the suicide note. I think that the killer typed it with his or her pen in order to avoid smudging Mandy's own fingerprints. Using an USB on this type of computer would have left an electronic trace."

"So, our killer is good with computers too?", Marcus wondered.

Sherlock nodded his head. "Very interesting person, it would appear", he replied before turning to examine the lock on the back door, inside and out. He used a cotton swab to swab the lock from the inside. He then disappeared into the bedroom, closing the door behind. He remained there for a while.

"What are you doing?", Thomas asked just a moment before Sherlock returned, closing the door behind.

"The killer must have gained access to the victim's home", Sherlock explained, not looking up. He soon moved to examining the lock on the back door. "You were right, there are no traces of breaking in. At least in the way of locks being damaged." He ran over to Gregson and Marcus, showing them both the cotton swabs. They both contained a brown groundy material on them. "But I recovered small traces of modelling clay on the victim's house key, inside one of her coat pockets, and inside the lock on the back door." He began storing the swabs in the plastic containers, still giving the summation. "The killer must have stalked her, managed to steal her house key, make an impression into the clay and then put the key back in the original place before she could notice. He later poured some melted iron inside the impression, thus making the copy of the key. Some traces of clay remained on the copy. He used that copy to get inside today. Interesting thing: one of the inner pockets on Mandy's coat, that I found in the closet in the bedroom, is more worn out than the others, and there are traces of ink inside, but no notebook or pen in there or in any other pockets."

He handed the containers to one of the near by forensic techs and gave him some quick instructions before continuing. "The killer sneaked inside through the back door using the copy of the key, sneaked up to Mandy while she was listening to the music and working on her computer with her back turned to him or her, knocked her unconsciousness with one strong but precise blow to the neck. He found her make up and applied it on her face in order to conceal the injuries that he had created while assaulting her, did his best to clean up any suspicious traces, put the make up back where it was, probably put on a new pair of gloves, took one of the certain cords, dragged Mandy to the place under the luster, and hanged her. He dragged the chair from the kitchen and positioned it on the floor near the body, wrote a fake suicide note, printed it, probably made sure that the victim's fingerprints will be found on it, left the note on the writing desk, and left through the back door, closing and locking the door behind, after making sure that every other window and door in the house had been closed and locked too. To perfect the illusion of suicide.

He walked back over to the writing desk and started searching the drawers.

"A bottom drawer. A magazine on the top. Another one underneath. Impressions on the bottom magazine that seem to be consistent with the laptop or a tablet. Yet, I have found no such piece of technology in here or anywhere else in the house, or even a matching charger."

Marcus sighed. "I don't know about any of you, but all this is only making me more suspicious od the boyfriend."

"Yes", Sherlock agreed. "But he wouldn't have needed a copy of her house key." He stood up and started flipping through the date book, his eyes quickly scanning the information that it contained.

"Nothing suspicious in her date book", he explained. "Nothing relating to the day of her death..." He suddenly stopped, having noticed something interesting on one of the papers near the end. A blank one. He frowned and ran his fingers over it.

"There are some impressions here", he said, pulling a pen out from his pocket. "On a very smell area of the paper, even though the previous page is completely full."

"Maybe somebody had ripped the final page", Marcus suggested while Sherlock started running the pen over the page, making the impressions visible. Soon enough, the lost note was recovered.

""Outnumbered" incorporated", Sherlock read. "A new, successful computer company."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I don't own any of "Elementary" characters and I am not making any money from writing this.**

 **Please forgive any minor spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native language.**

 **Sorry about the delay, but I'm back. I hope you enjoy this story.**

Andy Jane, Mandy's boss, rubbed his forehead, his face pale. He was sitting in a chair, in front of his writing desk. There were many photographs of him on the wall near by. Marcus, Thomas and Sherlock were standing in front of him.

"I'm shocked", Andy exclaimed. "I've worked with Mandy for five years."

"Do you know if she had any enemies?", Marcus asked. "Would anyone want to hurt her?"

"No. She was well liked, professional."

"Where were you today between one and three pm?", Thomas asked.

Andy widened his eyes, silent for a moment. "Am I considered a suspect?"

"That is just a routine question."

Andy took a deep breath, as Sherlock observed his right hand. "I was at home."

"Can anyone confirm that?"

Andy shook his head. "No. My wife was away, visiting her parents."

"Did you notice anything that would indicate that Mandy was doing some sort of a research of her own lately?", Sherlock asked, pulling his phone out. "Maybe even considering changing jobs."

"No, not really", Andy answered, as Sherlock began typing away. "Though she was absent much more over the last few months. You can take a look at her office, it's right accross the hall."

The three of them then left, heading to the door.

"Well, he could be our guy", Thomas figured.

"I disagree", Sherlock said.

"Why?", Marcus asked.

"I noticed the well cleaned up, but still visible stain on his right hand", Sherlock elaborated. "Despite the smears, I soon identified it as a heart shaped sign surrounded by the drawing of the barbed wire. The one issued at a Manhattan nightclub. Note the poorly disguised and marks on his right index finger, showing that he had removed his wedding ring and later put it back on recently. I happen to be... familiar with a very generous bartender who works there. Mostly online, due to the triggers. She confirmed my theory. Andy Jane lied about his alibi in order to cover up the marriage infidelity."

"Even when considered a suspect in the murder?", Thomas wondered.

"If you haven't done anything wrong, you have nothing to be afraid of", Sherlock mused, heading towards Mandy's office. "Mr. Jane seemed to take that at heart, at least in regards to Mandy's murder. Also, did you notice the way he was saving his right hand while shaking hands with us? And all those photographs in his office? He is a passionate tennis player. As a result, he has sustained a pretty bad case of the tennis elbow. I highly doubt that he would be able to knock the woman of Mandy's size unconsciousness, drag her through the room and then hang her on the luster. And, if he were familiar with karate, which uses the technique used to knock Mandy unconsciousness, it stands to reason that there would be evidence of that sport in his office too, does it not?"

#

The office was quite modest: a small writing desk in the middle, a book shelf on the wall, a chair, and a file cabinet. Sherlock kept opening the drawers, peeking under the desk and flipping through the books and files, with Marcus' help.

"I see nothing suspicious in here", Marcus exclaimed.

"Except for the fact that all of her documents and possession are in almost a perfect order", Sherlock said.

Marcus stopped, giving Sherlock a baffled look.

"Judging by the photographs on the walls, this office was a sheer opposite until recently", Sherlock explained. "It's like Mandy wanted to be ready to leave at any moment."

At that moment, Thomas walked into the office, a serious look on his face and a phone in his hand. "A few of my guys did some preliminary research on Mandy's phone records", Thomas exclaimed. "Over the last three months, she kept in quite the regular touch with a man named Derek Monroy."

"The owner of the computer programming firm?", Sherlock asked. "One of the most successful in New York City?"

"Yes."

#

Chloe carefully stepped inside apartment, followed by Joan, looking around. Both of them already had latex gloves over their hands and booties over their shoe bottoms. Joan silently closed the door behind before pocketing her tweezer.

"Wow... Sherlock has really taught you many things, huh?", Chloe commented.

Joan chuckled. "You have no idea..."

The door led directly into the living room. It was pretty modest: couch in the left corner, opposite to the TV, and a small bookcase to the right. There was also a small coffee table in front of the couch, mostly covered with newspapers and magazines. The entrance right next to the living room led to the kitchen, and there were two doors near by: one leading to the bedroom, and the other one leading to the bathroom. Both women started walking around, looking over the apartment carefully. Chloe adjusted the gloves on her hands.

"Well, the good thing is, there is no blood or signs of the struggle", Joan commented, still looking around. Chloe shivered. "No signs of breaking in either... I mean, there wasn't before we entered." She groaned. "But have you noticed the lock? The deadbolt?"

"What about them?", Chloe asked.

"Almost no scratches or rust on them", Joan explained, going over the books in the bookcase. "Slight traces of wooden dust still present on the floor in front of the door. He installed a new lock and a deadbolt recently." She lowered her voice a bit. "Maybe he was afraid of somebody. Sensed that he... could get in trouble."

"He should have told me", Chloe muttered, sounding hurt.

Joan looked at her, putting the book back on the shelf. "He would have", she assured her. "Eventually. Building trust takes time. That is not your fault."

Chloe smiled slightly in return.

They both looked around the living room for some time, before Joan moved to the bathroom, stationated near the bedroom. She opened the bathroom cabinet, carefully inspecting the items inside. Chloe remained outside, observing Joan with interest.

"Well, he has definitely been seeing somebody as of recently", Joan deduced. "I see two different types of toothpaste and a female deodorant, barely at all used."

She went back to the living room, closing the bathroom door behind, and looked around some more. She frowned at one of the magazines on the coffee table, before picking it up and inspecting it closely, even smelling it.

"She is likely from Long Island", Joan concluded, flipping through the pages.

Chloe frowned. "How do you know that?"

Joan looked up at her friend, showing her the magazine. "This small, local ecology magazine. It is only published and sold in Long Island, once a month. This one was published five days ago. I see no similar magazines anywhere else in his apartment. It still reeks of the female deodorant, matching to the one that I found in the bathroom cabinet."

Joan stored the magazine into one of the evidence bags that she had in her pocket, sealed the bag, put it down on the couch, and continued walking back and forth throughout the living room, followed by Chloe. She eventually stopped in front of the shelf positioned on the wall, above the TV set, paying special attention to an Eiffel tower souvenir. She even pulled the pen out of her pocket and tapped with it against the material, frowning at the sound that she heard, then did so with other souvenirs.

"Does he have any relations to France?", she asked. "Paris?"

"Yes. He has a cousin who lives there. How do you know?"

Joan turned to face Chloe. "This Eiffel tower souvenir is in the dominant spot among the other items. It is also made out of the pretty quality material, real steel, unlike the other souvenirs.." She sighed. "It could be nothing, but I'll still contact Marcus, see can he find out anything more about that."

They moved to the bedroom. Joan opened the closer near the bed. It was filled with pretty ordinary clothing, with some suitcases at the bottom. Chloe peeked inside.

Chloe signed. "Obviously, he hasn't taken any of his clothing, suitcases, money or documents. Only the car, the car keys and the apartment key are missing."

Joan observed the clothes closely. "He doesn't seem to go out much. Two "field trip outfits", in the very corner of the closet."

She paused, a last piece of clothing to the right having caught her attention. "One dirty and scuffy, the other one clean but even more wrinkled." She looked up at Chloe. "He'd been somewhere in the forest or a park recently, then washed the clothing."

Chloe sighed. "So, all the evidence is lost."

Joan smirked. "Not necessarily."

#

Derek Monroy, a stocky middle aged Caucasian man, stared blanky at Marcus and Sherlock, as the realization sank in. He leaned back in his chair, a gasp escaping his lips. There was a huge bookcase behind his desk, and a large window near by, overlooking the city.

"I can't believe this", he said. "I just spoke to her yesterday."

"Can you explain the nature of your... relationship with her", Marcus asked carefully.

Derek glared at him. "It was all strictly business related."

"Though Mandy officially had no connections to your company. And neither her fiance nor boss knew about you", Marcus pointed out.

Derek sighed, fondling his hands together. "I'm well familiar with the science circles, especially the ones about math, the ones relating to or close the New York City. Science magazines and websites actually play more of a role, business wise, than you probably think." He sighed. "I've read some of her articles, then her website. Her writing style was good, her ideas were... intriguing. Fresh. We met five months ago on a symposium. We talked. And I felt that she would be a great... person for our... project. The one that we had been considering and even planning many months, in some ways even years, prior."

Marcus glared at him. "What project?"

"She was working on solving the halting problem."

Marcus frowned. "The halting problem?"

"A math problem, considered to be unsolvable", Sherlock explained. "It is the problem of determining, from a description of an arbitary computer program and an input, whether the program will finish running or continue to run forever. Alan Turing proved that problem to be unsolvable in 1936."

"Well, Mandy had other ideas. She was working on solving it."

"And that would definitely benefit your company", Sherlock said. "You could test the quality of your programs much more effectively and quickly, make a lot of publicity for yourselves, maybe even win a "Millenium Prize"."

Derek sighed, looking away for a moment. "Since you didn't know about our project, I assume that you haven't found any evidence of it in her house or the workplace."

"Nothing so far", Sherlock answered. "It appears that whoever killed her also took those materials."

Derek exhaled, feeling himself shiver as he looked down at the floor. "Oh my God", he whispered.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows, fondling his hands together. "You were the man in charge. I would expect you to have the copies."

"Not the latest ones!", Derek cried. "She had been working on her own for the last week. Said that she was on to something big."

"Do you know did Mandy have any enemies?", Marcus asked. "Who could have done such a thing to her?"

Derek frowned. "No, I don't think so. But we have sort of a rivality with another company. "Moving Forward". They specialize in computer programs, smartphone designs, things like that. They make millions per year. And Math is pretty important in such business too. And not only for the marker status"

"Where were you today between one and three pm?", Marcus asked.

"I was on a business meeting in Manhattan", Derek answered. "I can give you the address where it took place and the named of our associates."

"We will also need the insight into Mandy's project", Sherlock said. "And her website."

#

"Well, that was interesting", Marcus commented, looking around as he and Sherlock started walking down the hallway.

"We have yet to check his alibi, but he did appear honest", Sherlock concluded, carrying two big files under his hand. "And if what he is saying is true, he had no reason to kill Manly. He only stood to profit with her alive."

Marcus nodded his head. "But we have a new suspect. Mandy's current boss."

"He would have certainly been be on the loss if he were to lose such an intelligent and talented employe", Sherlock agreed. "And he would stand to profit from taking a credit for such a discovery. His alibi only means that he wasn't directly responsible." He frowned. "Of course, we can't completely rule out mr. Monroy yet."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I don't own any of the "Elementary" characters and I am not making any money from writing this.**

 **Please forgive any minor spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native language.**

 **Gay, a geology expert and Joan's consultant, appeared in the episode 2x14, "Dead Clade Walking". Harlan Emple first appeared in 2x2 "Solve for X".**

Sherlock and Marcus looked up at the large building near the Wall Street, with the elaborate parking lot in front. There were two stocky security guards standing at the front door, made out of the bullet proof glass. Marcus and Sherlock both sighed and headed toward the door.

"Somehow, I have a feeling we will not find out much here", Marcus commented sarcastically.

#

Still, they managed to meet up with their CEO, a middle aged red haired Caucasian woman named Aiden. She crossed her legs and looked at her computer screen for a moment before giving her statement.

"I am very sorry about mrs. O'Reilly's passing, but I had nothing to do with that", she declared. "And I believe that nobody else from our company did either."

Sherlock grinned. "Well, I am sure even you know the first three murder suspects in every murder investigation: a person who found the body, a woman scorned and the raising upscale company of a suspicious moral."

Aiden tilted her head to the side. "I am beginning to feel insulted. Our... relations to Derek Monroy's corporation are nothing more than a friendly rivality. Hardly a motive for a murder. Our moral is by no means suspicious. And how would we even know about that research?"

"Stalking is the term that refutes your first two claims and makes your latest question mute", Sherlock pointed out.

Aiden frowned. "Stalking."

"I noticed a black SUV parked on the parking lot in front", Sherlock explained. "On the spot reserved for the employees only. With several leaves stuck under the wipers. Of a very rare tree. The kind that grows near the headquarters of the Monroy firm. You must have stalked them even today, probably shortly before we showed up there. If we were to run the licence plates, what do you think we would find? Have you managed to inflitrate some of your "agents" into their company as well? Coincidentally, Mandy's fiance claimed that he had noticed the susoicious looking car of same model and color cruising around the neighborhood in the days preceeding ms. O'Reily death."

Aiden leaned over, her jaw clenched, and fondled her hands together. "I would like you to leave now."

"Can you account to your whereabouts for today between eight and ten am, mrs. Cornwell?", Marcus asked.

Aiden just reached into her purse, pulled out a business card, and calmly handed it to Marcus. "Talk to my attorney", she advised. "He will tell you all you really need to know."

#

When Sherlock returned downstairs, his tablet in hand, he found Joan standing near the living room table. Sitting at it was Gay, hunched over a macroscope, studying some sort of soil.

"Hi", he exclaimed, sounding surprised.

"Hi", Joan responded.

"Hi", Joan said, not looking up.

Sherlock frowned, still confused. "I see that you are back. And working... on something."

Joan sighed. "Hal Redding case." She walked few steps closer to Sherlock. "I've gone through his phone records. Marcus obtained them for me."

"I noticed him "typing away" on his phone. I didn't want to be noisy though."

Joan rolled her eyes. "Sure. Anyway, most of ireese pretty rudimentary stuff. Calls to his mother, boss, Chloe. But one thing stands out. Over the last month, he has been receiving and making calls to a number that forensics managed to trace as a disposable phone. All the calls have been received and made in Long Island area, but none lasted long enough for the exact location to be pinpointed. Forensics managed to narrow it down to a twenty mile radius. No murders or disappearances reported there as of lately. They tried tracking that phone signal, then the signal of that disposable phone... nothing. They both must be broken or turned off."

"With all due respect, that does sound pretty disappointing", Sherlock said. "And it still doesn't explain Gay's presence."

Joan nodded her head. "At his apartment, I deduced that he was likely out recently, after which he washed the clothing that he had worn. Me and Chloe examined the washing machine. We found some residue that remained. Traces of dirt and a few rocks, mixed with detergant. Not much and most of it was pretty degrated, but that's why I-we-have Gay. I offered her a place at my office downstairs, but she felt a need for something more... spacey."

Sherlock nodded his head. "I see."

Joan looked away for a moment. "I'll also go through social media records, see if anything useful turns out. Chloe has already sent him a few messages, but he hasn't responded." She noticed the tablet in Sherlock's hand. "What are you doing?", she asked.

"The case that I've been working on has had more twists and turns than a pretzel", he explained. "The victim's death was definitely a murder, not a suicide, and the victim was secretly working for a successful corporation, trying to solve a Math problem considered, by many, to be unsolvable. I have contacted the Everyone, they are trying to break through the rival's company firewall and obtain some useful information. In the mean time, I've been inspecting the victim's website." He lowered his voice a bit. "Just to warn you, Harlan Emple will be over later this afternoon in order to inspect the victim's notes. Well, the copies of those notes."

#

Soon enough, Joan was the one hunched over the macroscope, while Gay was standing near by, explaining her discovery. Sherlock was back upstairs in his room, with his tablet.

"Look at the dark shade and lots of small, mostly the sediment kind of rocks", she suggested, as Joan adjusted the macroscope. " If I were you, I would concentrate on this area of Long Island." She adjusted herself on the seat. "Also, I found small scraps of metal, few different kinds, and some motor oil. You may limit yourself to the forests near the industrial area."

#

Harlan Emple was staring at the papers covering the living room wall in awe, with nothing but his underwear on. He kept moving back and forth, silently reading certain parts and even giggling at times. Sherlock was sitting on a chair in a very corner of the room, observing the bizarre sight tiredly.

"Beautiful", he exclaimed. "This is beautiful."

"I heard it the first two dozen times", Sherlocj said dryly.

Harold stopped and turned to face Sherlock, a look of awe on his face. "I can't tell for sure could... the author of this really have solved it, but she came closer than anyone ever had. I'm sure of that."

"And why is that?"

"Well, she employed many original tactics combined with the statistics. For example, she would let the certain program run for a week under the "unusual circumstances", such as in a very warm room or with a slow Internet connection, which would surely put it's "strength" on test."

Sherlock rubbed his chin. "Do you have any idea what her next step could have been?", Sherlock wondered.

Harold frowned. "Not really, but every draft is more elaborate than the previous one. It must have been something big."

#

And at the same down, quite the distance away, another great discivery was about to be made. Chloe and Joan were making their way up the track slowly, approaching the small wooden summer house located on the top of the small hill. About halfway there, they noticed a vehicle parked near by, wrapped in a large black car cover. The whole place smelled of elm and oak trees, and the dusk was settling on the horizont.

"A car," Chloe exclaimed. "Could be Hal's." She looked at Joan. "What if somebody is there"

"Well, I have my single stick. And Sherlock's whistle."

"Are you sure about this?"

"Gay advised me to concentrate on thus area. social media records show that he, over the last months, has been in frequent contact with twenty nine year old Stephanie. She lives in the area from where those phone calls were made and owns a summer house in the area to which Gay pointed me to. Her activity on social media sites stopped the same day has. On the day he went missing. And since she wasn't at her apartment..."

They walked up the hill, looking around, and walked over to the car. Joan pulled a pair of latex gloves out of her pocket, pulling them over her hands. Chloe did the same. Joan then slowly raised the car cover, uncovering the licence plates and the hood. Chloe sighed.

"Red Ford", she exclaimed, her face sulking. "It's Hal's."

"No apparent damage, no signs of a struggle, no blood", Joan noticed. She straightened herself up, observing the car cover and the ground carefully.

"No usable shoe prints or tyre tracks anywhere, the ground is too hard...", she concluded. "But the car cover is pretty dusty, lots of leaves in it too. This car hasn't been moved from this location in a while."

They moved toward the front door, pulling booties over their shoe bottoms before Joan took a deep breath, grabbed the door knob, and slowly pushed it. The door was unlocked. Both she and Chloe peeked inside.

The interior was pretty modest. A dining room table near the front door, with two chairs places in front of it, a couch in the opposite corner of the room, and a small table in front of it, with the TV placed on top. The back door in the left corner, and two doors in the right corner: one probably leading into the bedroom, the other into the bathroom. One of the chairs was in a weird position and, as Joan noted, there were some scuff marks on the floor. There was also a small, square white object laying on the floor, partially hidden behind the table, with some shreds of broken glass around it.

She and Chloe walked over, inspecting the item closely. It was a broken digital clock, still plugged in. "There's been a struggle", Joan concluded. She snapped the photograph if it with her phone, then leaned over and inspected the item closely. She picked up some of the glass shreds and observed then closely.

"Look at this digital clock", she said. "I mean, the pieces of glass. The remains of the screen." Chloe frowned. Joan continued. "Like the numbers remained frozen on it as the glass broke... but they are smeared."

"Something damaged... what? The color filter?", Chole wondered.

Joan turned to face her. "Such damage is common among the common electronical devices... especially in the cases when taser is used near by."

"Paint cans, tool box...", Chloe noted, looking around. "Maybe he was helping her renovate this place? Or re decorate, at least?"

"And never finished", Joan added, sighing.

They started walking back and fort, looking around, and soon concentrated on the area on the floor, a few feet away. They both leaned over, examining the scuff marks, indentations and stains on the floor closely. Joan even took a few photographs with her phone, and later pulled out a cotton swab and a bottle of sterile water, using it to take a swab. She examined it under the magnifying glass that she had in her pocket (a birthday present from Sherlock). She eventually straightened herself up and sighed.

"Scuff marks here...", she remisced, looking around. "Some more scuff marks up here... even indentations. Judging by the shape and position, they look like they were made by the heels... and elbows." She took a deep breath, still holding a swab in her hand. "And this looks like a bodily fluid... a mixture of saliva... tear fluid... and blood." She turned to face Chloe. "Such leakege and such marks on the floor are common results of someone lying face up on the floor... and being strangled. Desperately trying to fight back." Chloe gasped. Joan waited a bit, then continued. "The women's deodorant was present too. The same like the one from apartment. There are two sets of scuff marks leading: one from the dining table to the door, and the ones leading from here to the front door. All the drapes are tied with drape cords, except for the window near this spot."

She looked around some more, her gaze stopping on the back door. "The back door is ajar", she exclaimed. "The... intruder could have sneaked in there, then leave through the front door that he could then easily unlock from inside, to save himself some trouble. The tracks are better on that position."

Cautiously, they both made their way toward the door. Joan pulled at the doorknob a little, carefully inspecting the lock and the frame.

And, suddenly, she froze, her eyes widening.

"Oh my God", she whispered.

"What does this mean?", Chloe asked, staring at the discovery herself.

"That I now know who is behind this", Joan exclaimed, not looking up.

A letter "A" had been carved into the door frame.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I don't own any of the Elementary characters and I am not making any money from writing this.**

 **Please forgive any minor spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native language.**

 **This is where the story becomes hard to understand if you haven't read "A". It also contains many spoilers to that fanfic.**

Joan was standing on the side of the road, near the field, looking at forensic techs and police officers up there, doing their job. She felt some chilling anticipation, that only increased once Marcus approached her.

He took a deep breath and looked Joan in the eyes before speaking up. "Yes, there was a human body buried in that field. Right next to the spot where the last previous victim had been buried."

"Hal's?", Joan asked, feeling herself shiver.

Marcus grimaced. "Formal identification will take some time, but according to his face... despite the... bruising... yes."

Joan's face fell and she looked away. Marcus observed her carefully, waiting for some time before continuing. "As it turns out, he was one of the men on Juliet's... hit list. His name waa originally William. He was under a police protection for some time, but it was eventually called off. Nothing was happening, we don't have that many resources to begin with, and there was no basis to put him up for something as elaborate as a witness protection program, so..."

"He then moved to a new apartment", Joan remisced, staring at the field longingly. "Changed his first name. Dyed his head brown, likely so he would no longer match Juliet's victim's type. Started getting a treatment for his alcoholism, put on some weight, likely as an indirect result of that. Met a girlfriend." "We only saw him so briefly before, two months passed, he changed his name, address, still haven't open up to Chloe about... everything... including that... I didn't make a connection at first."

Marcus groaned. "Neither did I. We put a police patrol up to stake the place out for some time, but after a month..."

Joan shuddered. "How long has he been dead?"

"For about two days", Marcus answered gently. "I did some research on Stephanie too. She was mugged little over a month ago. That explains why she was using a disposable phone to contact Hal And, as it turns out, Hal didn't have really strong ties to Paris. At least, there is no evidence of anything criminal."

Joan sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Never mind about that. This was Juliet Greenway, and only Juliet Greenway. There is no doubt about that."

Marcus glanced at her. "You and Sherlock continued working on the case?"

Joan nodded her head. "Yeah." She briefly chuckled, in a bitter tone. But all we accomplished was identifying one more of her victims."

"Really?"

Joan turned to face Marcus. "Keith Cooper, a prosecutor who arranged for Juliet's rapist to be released from prison and placed into a witness protection program, was murdered in Seattle. There were no records of Juliet having even traveled there. But the night before the murder, a woman named Lee Plauche traveled from New York City to Seattle, and returned the day after the murder. There are no other known records of that woman anywhere. We figured that was Juliet's alies, derived from two names. Both known vigilantees. A woman living two blocks away from Juliet, Tracy Morgan, had been murdered a week before Keith's murder. Bludgeoned to death and her house set on fire. She had a prior record for counterfeiting and falsifying documents. We figured that Juliet must have used her to obtain fake IDs, then murdered her to cover her tracks and used those documents to travel to Seattle, where she murdered Keith."

It was then that Sherlock approached them, already with the booties on and adjusting the latex gloves on his hands. "The cabs here are horrid!", he commented angrily before giving Joan a concerned look. She blushed.

"I have to go back to the precinct", Marcus said, making his way toward his car. Sherlock walked closer to Joan.

"Are you OK?"

Joan sighed. "Yeah..."

They exchanged one more look and made their way towards the field, both deep in thought.

The body was already in a body bag, placed on the weeling chart near the freshly unearthed grave. Sherlock opened it carefully, and both he and Joan looked down at the corpse that was revealed as a result. It was pretty dark out, so they had to use their flashlights.

"Geez", Joan exclaimed, feeling her stomach twisting. "Juliet really did a number on him." She frowned. "It looks like she used something to wash of the brown hair dye and cut off some of his belly fat so he would look similar to the way he originally had. So he would match her victim type again."

"He was on a hit list", Sherlock exclaimed, walking over to the grave. "The birthday meant that he was next. His fate was sealed."

"But why now?", Joan wondered, looking away from the body, as Sherlock studied the grave. "She would always only commit murders on January 12th and March 4th. Tracy I get as an exception." Sherlock pulled out his IPhone and photographed something inside the grave. Joan continued. "Juliet needed to cover up her tracks, ensure that everything will go as planned. But this?"

"A sign of boredom", Sherlock suggested, picking up a leaf that he had found on a bottom of the grave and then studying it closely. "A loss of control. Or maybe she just couldn't wait to... play with us again." He straightened himself up and placed the leaf into an evidence bag that he had pulled out of his pocket.

"Maybe we are becoming her next obsession", Joan said in a half whisper, her eyes widening.

A short, uneasy silence followed, both of them feeling goose bumps. Sherlock pocketed the evidence bag, trying not to gulp.

"Maybe", he agreed uneasily, then walked back over to the body.

"And why abduct him from Stephanie's summer house?", Joan wondered, as Sherlock studied the wounds on the body closely. "Thus having to murder Stephanie too?"

"Like with her previous victims, Juliet must have stalked Hal, and learned of his habits, plans, routine", Sherlock concluded, before smelling the body. "And Stephanie. Perhaps, once she found out that they were about to head to an isolated location, she decided to save herself some trouble." He smelled the body once again. "She followed them to there... and did what she had planned. Maybe she had planned to murder Stephanie all along, or maybe the poor woman just walked in on her."

Joan sighed. "From what I saw in the summer house, Juliet lost her control when it came to Stephanie. But either way, trying to control two victims at once..."

"And then she took Stephanie's body off the abduction sight too", Sherlock concluded. "An obvious attempt to both cover up her tracks further and stir us along even more. Play with us, taunt us." He looked up at Joan. "But she didn't bury Stephanie here. She probably didn't think of her as... "good enough". Just a collateral damage."

Joan sighed, as Sherlock smelled the body two more times. "Sadly, that's probably the reason."

"Do you feel this scent?", Sherlock suddenly asked, looking up at Joan. "I mean, beneath the pepper?"

Joan smelled the body a few times, cringing. "I can't really detect it, but it's something..."

"Fishy?", Sherlock suggested. "Mixed with a scent of reeked oil?"

"I guess."

Sherlock walked closer to Joan, showing her the leaf placed in an evidence bag. "And this leaf. I found it in the grave. It's still green. It must have ended up in there recently. While the grave was being dug. A very rare type of tree to be found in New York. Most of those trees grow near the docks on the Hudson river. Some of which, as you know, are greatly poluted by motor oil."

Joan frowned. "We haven't uncovered that detail up until now. Not even the Nose detector such a scent."

"Maybe it's a new detail."

Joan's face lightened up. "Juliet disposed of Stephanie's body by throwing it into Hudson..."

"Before disposing of Hal's remains", Sherlock finished. "Thus transporting that scent on his body and the leaf into his grave." They both smiled. "We have a clue."

#

The next morning, Sherlock was up way before Joan, and he just finished making her some nice warm tea when she walked into the kitchen. She muttered "Good morning" and slumped into a chair. Sherlock just put a mug full of tea on the table in front of her and waited for her to relax. He had something important to say.

"Stephanie Morgan's body was found in the Hudson river two hours ago", he informed her as she took a sip. "Wrapped in a protective plastic and weighed down with rocks. She had been strangled to death with a curtain cord from her own summer house, just like you deduced. They will rush with the autopsy and forensic examination."

"What about Juliet?", Joan asked.

"Detective Bell and captain Gregson interrogated her. She denies any involvement and can't provide an alibi."

Joan frowned. "They interrogated her? Why not wait for us?"

Sherlock sat down. "As you yourself have noticed, she wants to play with us. She wants us. The least we can do is to keep her hungry for some time. An act of petty revenge, sure, but she hasn't set the bar very high." He sighed. "Of course, we can't go on with this for long, that would mean risking her doing something drastic. In some other instance, that may be a good thing, but since we can't follow her..."

"What if this is the work of a copycat?", Joan suggested.

"The police and ourselves have been very secretive about all the details relating to the investigation, especially weapons used to commit the murders and the signature that Juliet would leave on the abduction sights. I highly doubt that."

"But how would Juliet manage to track Hal down?", Joan wondered. "He changed his name, address, job, appearance."

"From what I've discovered so far, mr. Redding changed his profile name and deleted some of the photographs, but kept his original social media accounts", Sherlock explained. "Juliet must have done some research on him as soon as he applied for that job application years ago, thus finding himself on her hit list. If she preserved a link to one of his accounts on social media sites, tracking him down, despite all those changes, would be a piece of cake."

Joan looked down at her tea mug. "We thought she would find a new... victim pool. But she went after the guy who was already notified about the whole thing."

"Maybe she didn't have time", Sherlock suggested. "Or it is another taunt. We knew he was in danger, and she still got to him. Or maybe she is simply too... strongly attached to her ritual."

"And we will get her", Sherlock said softly, in an assuring tone.

"The question is when", Joan uttered.

Sherlock picked it up and read the email with an interest, which Joan noticed. "Something important?", she asked.

"A word from "Everyone". They uncovered an interesting detail about Derek Monroy's rival company."

#

Sherlock stormed through the Monroy company headquarters, heading toward Derek Monroy's office. Several people stood in place like frozen, staring at him. Derek's secretary, Maya, was running after Sherlock, trying to calm him down, but it didn't work. Derek Monroy himself ended up running into Sherlock, having left his office, alerted by the noise.

"I'm very sorry, mr. Monroy", Maya apologized. "I tried to stop him."

"It's OK, Maya", Derek said. He glared at Sherlock. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Explain why you lied to me, mr. Monroy", Sherlock demanded.

Several people present there gasped silently. Derek's face turned flushed. "Lied to you?"

"The only thing that you expressed about is your strong dislike of it. And yet, I found out that you recently donated fifty thousand dollars to them."

Derek frowned, taking a step closer to Sherlock and lowering his voice. "How do you know that?", he whispered.

"I doubt that matters much now, do I?"

Derek sighed, looking away.

"What happened?", Sherlock asked. "Did Mandy found someone else? A way to make even more money with her discovery? Are you in this together? Two companies?"

"My office. Now."

Albeit reluctantly, Sherlock agreed. The two made their way into Derek's office. Derek closed and locked the door behind, as Sherlock paced around the room. Derek walked over to Sherlock, fuming on the inside.

"One of my friends from college now works there", he explained, trying to control his fury. "He made a mistake. His job depended on it. I value my job, but I am not ruthless." He lowered his voice even more. "That was the first and only time I did that. We both agreed to keep it a secret. I can give you his contact info if you want."

"You never told me that", Sherlock pointed out.

"I didn't think that it was important." He took a deep breath. "And please, I would like you to leave now."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I don't own any of the "Elementary" characters and I am not making any money from writing this.**

 **Please forgive any minor spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native language.**

 **Juliet Greenway is portrayed by Krysta Rodriguez.**

On contrary to Joan, who was dressed in a plaid blouse and skirt, Sherlock wore an orange/red baseball cap, baggy white T-shirt and blue jeans. Joan, who was sitting on the living room couch, studying a case file, just glared at him before she continued reading.

"A gift for your friends from "Everyone", I assume", she commented sarcastically.

Sherlock sighed. "They usually aim to humiliate me before they provide me with the necessary information, but I guess they've been feeling particularly generous as of lately. Anyway, I have to videotape performing "Rapper's Delight", solo, and, instead of just emailing the video to them, also post it on YouTube, using an account under the penname "LameAss"."

That elicited a brief chuckle from Joan. Sherlock adjusted his baseball cap.

"The good thing is, I have recovered another clue. Upon studying the private records of "Moving Forward", another suspicious detail arose. The executives seem to be quite worried about a certain person, apparently still unidentified, that they have named "Subject X". The language is pretty vague, but it was easy, for me, to deduce that they are being blackmailed into transfering certain amounts of money on to an offshore account every now and then."

"Blackmailed? About what?"

"Well, we are aware of their shady means to shady ends. Stalking executives of rival corporations, secretly doing business with them when it is fit... they've been investigating a theory that the blackmail may be an inside job."

"But how does the murder of Mandy O'Reilly comes into pleday here?", Joan wondered.

Sherlock sighed. "So far... I have no idea."

A short silence ensued. Sherlock observed Joan for some time, gazing at the file in her hands.

"You are studying the Juliet Greenway case file?", he asked.

Joan sighed. "Yeah. The entire case history. Trying to find... something." She looked up at Sherlock. "Have forensics recovered anything?"

"No foreign fingerprints at the summer house. DNA analysis of all the samples that have been colected will take a while. Stephanie's clothing hasn't been recovered, her fingernails had been cut, apparently. No eyewitnesses have surfaced." He sighed, looking away. "Juliet, like before, didn't take any chances. She mamaged to avoid all the traffic cameras near that dock on the Hudson river as well."

Joan looked back down at the file, a sulk appearing on her face, which Sherlock noticed.

"But we will never give up", he eventually said, assuringly. "And she can't be avoiding justice forever."

Joan looked up at him. "And how many people will die until she finally makes a mistake."

Sherlock remained silent for some time, his eyes locked with Joan's. He felt his palms sweating. "We will do our best, Joan. And that is enough. Juliet's wrongdoings are no one's fault but her own. Nothing will ever change that", he concluded before walking away and heading toward his room.

Joan looked after him for some time before continuing to study the file.

#

Joan woke up to Clyde leaning against her face. She had fallen asleep on the couch, an opened case file in her lap. Sherlock was sitting on the near by chair, just staring at her, a different case file in his hand. Joan groaned, blinked a few times, gently put Clyde away, checked her watch, and sat up on the couch.

"Good morning to you too", she muttered to Sherlock.

"Indeed it is", he exclaimed. "Still no clue as to who the "Subject X" is. "But I finished examining Mandy O'Reilly's website. She frequently communicated with the user named mostly throught the private messaging system." Joan rubbed her eyes and quickly fixed her hair, as Sherlock went on. "Over the time he was growing more and more curious about her research, even suggesting that they meet in person, and she was not keen on those ideas, judging by her responses. The last time they communicated was on the day prior to her death. They got into a bit of an argument. Later, nothing."

Joan frowned. "That sounds like a promising lead."

"And it most certainly is. Fortunately, was not very successful in preserving his anonymity. Even without the help from "Everyone" and further humiliations, he was easily identified by his email and IP address by the computer techs employed by the NYPD. Jerry Flynn, a former Math profession on MIT. Fired and imprisoned for two years in 2012 for falsifying documents and taking bribes from his students. He is being brought in for questioning as you speak, do you better get dressed soon. With all due respect, I think you could use a shower beforehead."

Joan rolled her eyes before standing up and heading towards the bathroom.

#

Jerry Flynn, a chubby middle aged Caucasian man, dressed in white shirt and black pants, glared at Marcus and Joan, who were sitting at the table in the interrogation room, opposite to him. Sherlock was standing near by.

"That is ridiculous!", he cried. "I didn't murder Mandy!"

"But you were trying to get your hands on her research", Marcus pointed out.

"Who wouldn't?", Jerry exclaimed. "The Milenium prise? The fame?"

"Mandy never wrote about that research on her website", Joan said.

"Still, I found her work to be interesting. Promising. We strarted communicating and she happened to drop a few... hints. I got intrigued. But she was no easy nut to crack, you know what I mean?", he asked, chuckling a bit. Everyone just stared blankly at him. "Okay, that came out wrong", he admitted, looking away and running a hand through his hair.

"You stopped contacting her all together starting as of the day prior to her murder", Marcus said.

"We had an argument", Jerry confessed. "Online, I mean. I decide to give her some time to cool off."

"Where were you two days ago at about three pm?", Marcus asked.

"At work", Jerry said, rubbing his hands nervously. "You can check."

Sherlock stared at his hands intently, pieces of puzzle finally falling into place. He walked over to Joan, leaning over to Joan and whispering into her ear: "Let's not waste time with him. I know who did it."

#

Maya, Derek Monroy's personal assistant, scoffed before glaring at captain Thomas Gregson, who was sitting at the table in the interrogation room, opposite to her, next to Sherlock. Joan was standing near by.

"That's ridiculous!", Maya exclaimed. "Why would I murder Mandy?"

"You noticed the people, hired by the rival company "Moving Forward", stalking the executives, employees, people who worked for the company you worked for", Sherlock explained. "You probably didn't know why exactly, at first. So, instead of warning your boss, you took some photos and started blackmailing them. Sending anonymous emails, demanding them to transfer the money on the offshore account that you had set up. Mandy found out and threatened to expose you. Or maybe she wanted you to cut her in, despite all the money she already stood to earn. So you stalked her for some time, got to know her habits, made a copy of her house key. Then, two days ago, you sneaked into her house, murdered her, and made it look like a suicide. I am still not quite sure how did you realize for what company those stalkers worked for, but you are obviously intelligent, observent. You noticed them while no one else did. Did you figure that you could "score some profit" so you followed them and figured it out?"

Maya forced a smile. "You can't be serious."

"It occurred to me as I noticed a different suspect rubbing his hands together today", Sherlock explained. "His skin was dry, and he used a pretty cheap hand cream. Then I remembered the detail that I noticed about you yesterday. A make up, badly applied to the side of your right hand. I bet if you were to remove that badly applied make up now, a nasty long bruise would become visible. About two days old, am I right? And we know that you've been training karate for years, judging by your social media sites and trophies at your house. If you were to karate chop Mandy, against the back of her neck..."

"I hurt myself moving some boxes around the house. A coincidence. And many people train karate and can perform such a blow!"

"We searched your home, workplace, car", Thomas explained, opening the file. He pulled a few photographs out of it and showed them to Maya. She shivered. "We found the evidence of the blackmail, on your computer. And the data that you had stolen from Mandy. Her research. Your computer records also show that you've been doing plenty of... interesting Internet searches lately. About making the copies of keys, methods of suicide, suicide by hanging..."

"You searched the house after murdering Mandy, removing any incriminating information that she had on you", Joan said. "And you found out about her research. Ironically, it was only then that you realized you had a means to earn much more money than you ever could via your blackmail scheme. Or you knew about the research before and got tired of blackmailing. Maybe Mandy never actually exposed you. Still, I doubt it. It would appear that Derek has done a pretty good job of keeping that project under wraps. Anyway, you kept all the documents. The notebook and Mandy's secret laptop. You probably planned to show those to your boss or, likely, some other company, a few months or even years after Mandy's death, after... re-wording the notes a little, so nobody would become suspicious. Either way, for you, Mandy was better off dead. And you stood to become very rich, pretty fast."

"Not anymore, obviously", Sherlock commented.

"You did your best not to leave any evidence on the crime scene and to clean afterwards, but we did find small traces of make up in your car, matching to the one from Mandy's house, applied to her face post mortem in order to conceal the injurie", Thomas said before pulling a few more photographs out of the file, putting them on the table in front of Maya. "And the knots that you use, as visible on these photographs on your social media sites and courtain cords at your home, match to the ones used to make the noose, that was used to murder Mandy. And in your bedroom, they found some traces of modeling clay, matching to the one find inside the look on the back door to Mandy's home."

"We made some calls to the local traveling agencies and talked to your boss", Joan added. "Two months ago, you took three days off. For the first time in days. You went to Cipar and only stayed there for a day. You went to open an offshore account that you later used in your blackmailing scheme, didn't you?"

"Good luck explaining all that to the jury", Sherlock commented sarcastically.

Maya sighed. For the first time since Mandy had confronted her, she was at a loss of words.

#

Joan helped Chloe nove some of the books. "These were some of his things", Chloe explained silently, studying the items. "I'm helping his mother... you know."

"That's nice", Joan complimented.

Chloe sighed, looking away. "He should have told me. Maybe then..."

"I'm sure he would have", Joan said softly. "Eventually. You did well."

Chloe sighed and nodded her head, looking down at the floor.

"Me and Sherlock... we will catch her someday", Joan said, trying to sound convincing-not just for Chloe, but for herself too.

Chloe turned to face Joan. "I hope."

#

Joan took a deep breath, staring at the door in front of her with a mixture of rage and dread. She eventually took one more deep breath and knocked.

Soon, the lid on the peephole was removed, and a big dark eye stared at Joan from inside the apartment. And Joan stared back.

For a second, two, three.

Then the lid was back on. And, sure enough, the door opened.

Juliet Greenway stood there, in front of Joan, a grin on her face and her arms crossed over her chest. She leaned against the doorway slightly. She was dressed in a white T-shirt, blue jeans, and black sneakers.

"Joan Watson", she said smugly. "I don't see your... partner, Sherlock Holmes. Does he know about this little visit of yours? Don't expect me to let you in, not that you will be able to find anything incriminating in there." She looked Joan over. "Or get anything truly incriminating on a wire that you are likely wearing."

"I am not recording this", Joan said.

"Say you."

"You changed your M.O.", Joan pointed out.

Juliet frowned. "My M.O.? What are you implying?" She pouted. "I feel pretty offended now. Harassed even. I would watch my mouth if I were you, mrs. Watson." She chuckled briefly. "Who knows, maybe it's actually me wearing a wire."

"No you aren't", Joan responded before taking a step closer, looking Juliet in the eyes. "But we both know one thing. Deep down, you are afraid of me. And Sherlock. We have thrown you off balance. Uncovered your crimes. Exposed your involvement. Saw the true you. You can't stand that. But nothing is ever going to change it. And you are going to fail."

Juliet tilted her head to the side, moving a bit closer to Joan, making her shudder. "You seem pretty confident in yourself", she noted. "I bet Sherlock is too. But I can think of about... two people who wouldn't share such an opinion."

That felt like a punch in the gut for Joan. Juliet must have noticed her discomfort, because she smirked before continuing.

"If they were... avaliable now. In fact, I'd bet they'd feel... betrayed. The optimism is dead for them." She grinned. "And I'd bet there will be more of such people."

She took a step back, looked at Joan one more time, and then closed and locked the door behind.

Joan stared at the door for some time, a bland look on her face, before turning around and walking away into the night.

~THE END~


End file.
